


Sweet Release

by invisibledeity



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fucking Machines, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, One Shot, Overstimulation, Trans Male Character, no misgendering, shameless porn really, transguy!Prompto, very mild knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: In which Prompto is cornered in Zegnautus by a delighted Ardyn, and is put in a rather tight position.





	Sweet Release

**Author's Note:**

  * For [promcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/promcake/gifts).



> A gift piece for [promcake](http://promcake.tumblr.com), who wanted some noncon transguy!Prompto / Ardyn with plenty of spice and all things nice. I hope you enjoy~

It’s all dark in Zegnautus Keep. Prompto thinks he’s been doing well, keeping to the shadows, slipping through doors undetected, out of the watchful eyes of the security cameras. Not even the broken-down Magitek Troopers have seen him.

            The voice, when it comes, stills him into shock.

            ‘Oh, Prompto, my pet, didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude to enter another man’s house uninvited?’

            It’s calling out over the intercom, and it’s undeniably, unmistakeably Ardyn. And while it sounds tinny and far away, it’s also so deep inside his head he can’t suppress a shiver.

            He’s hidden. He’s avoided notice. So how did Ardyn know he’s here?

            Was he not careful enough?

            Prompto’s heart starts beating faster. No choice but to continue on, though. So he steels himself, readies his gun, and slips through the door at the end of the storage room.

            ‘I wouldn’t go that way, if I were you.’

            His breath catches. Eyes dart this way and that. There must be a security camera he missed.

            No point worrying about that now. Of greater concern is the path that lies ahead. Of course, Ardyn’s words are designed to make him doubt, and now he finds himself presented with a choice. Is it more dangerous to continue, or to try another route?

            He takes his chances. Doubles back, takes the next corridor.

            And walks right into Ardyn’s arms.

            He’s not expecting the man to be so close, and he’s caught entirely off-guard. There’s a brief struggle in which he yells out and kicks, but Ardyn’s so much larger than him, and he holds him fast. Not even the muscles Prompto has worked so hard to attain give him the slightest amount of an edge over him.

            ‘Hush, hush now. It’s quite all right, my dear.’ And, - _wait, what is he doing? -_ he slips a hand between Prompto’s legs, and Prompto lets out a small cry, squirms from his touch, fussing and fretting and yet not _entirely_ disliking it. This makes the bigger man chuckle softly, and he grips harder.

            ‘Please … no…’ Prompto falls still but utters his denial nonetheless. He has to say _something_ , or he’ll never forgive himself.

            ‘No?’ Ardyn sounds delighted. ‘I’m afraid you don’t get to make that decision.’ And now he clamps one arm firm round Prompto’s midriff, the other moving to unbuckle his belt, before delving beneath the layers to grip over his bare skin. Fingers curl in pubic hair, pry beneath the folds of skin to reach the small, sensitive nub there. And now those fingers massage either side of it, working between his folds, sinking in decadently against the parts Prompto doesn’t want to think of as _female_.

            A shockwave of pleasure courses through Prompto’s body, and he _hates_ it.

            He struggles more violently. ‘Stop!’

            ‘Oh, I think not.’ Ardyn’s other hand pulls up his top, slips beneath it to trace the delicate cigarette-paper scars that mark his chest. Where breast tissue used to be. His touch is strange … almost reverential, and it gives Prompto pause.

            Then he starts swirling his fingers down below, drawing up wetness, using Prompto’s own juices to lubricate him. He can’t hide a gasp, can’t stop his squirming, can’t prevent the tight muscles around his pelvis from contracting, from flushing with blood. Another breathless gasp. He hasn’t had a testosterone shot since leaving Insomnia, and he worries that his voice has somehow become more high-pitched in the months that have gone by. Shouldn't happen, he knows hormone therapy doesn't work that way, but he worries all the same.

            ‘Look how hard your little cock is getting for me,’ Ardyn croons, and again, Prompto pauses. He had been expecting ridicule. But this?

            Ardyn catches his confused gaze. ‘You wonder why I’m not surprised? Prompto, dearest … I’ve always known everything about you. Dear Verstael tried … experimented so many times with so many different models.’ A smirk dances across his lips. ‘I’m sure, had he still been alive, that he would have been delighted to discover how you tried to subvert your fate.’

            ‘He wouldn’t have cared,’ Prompto says bitterly, between gritted teeth.

            ‘Why do you assume that nobody is interested in you?’ And again, Ardyn flicks his fingers, drawing out a shameful moan from his captive. ‘Why do you think so little of yourself? Ah … don’t struggle so. I, for one, find you to be quite delightful.’

            _Of course you do_ , he thinks.

            ‘You’re … nothing but a … pervert,’ Prompto hisses out, still straining, still kicking.

            ‘Well now,’ Ardyn purrs. ‘I know what it’s like to be given something you don’t want. To live with the cruel hand fate has dealt you. So bravo, my boy, for your efforts in trying to turn it around.’ He presses closer, grabs harder, and _rubs_. Then his voice falls into a deeper register. ‘It shan’t save you now, though.’

            Prompto barely has time to cry out. Ardyn’s dragging him backwards, into the dark recesses of the room, and soon he finds himself barrelled into something hard and cold like steel. A laboratory table. His eyes have not adjusted entirely to the darkness yet, but he can see in the soft shadows from the corridor light the straps that decorate the table’s edges.

            And so he bucks and kicks out.

            ‘Fuck! No - let go!’

            Ardyn thrusts him back onto the hard surface.

            ‘Please … please, don’t do this!’

            Ardyn kisses him hard to shut him up. He yells into the kiss, scrabbles for purchase, and somehow before he knows it, his arms are strapped down. His legs soon follow suit, ankles strapped fast to the lower corners of the surface - and he’s pretty sure this is an operating table – then his eyes widen as Ardyn pulls a blade from the folds of his voluminous layers of clothing. The knife edge ghosts over his skin, before settling around his snow pants. His legs are spread far enough apart that, even with the zip and buckle undone, Ardyn can’t pull his clothing down any further. And so he cuts at the fabric, tears it apart with the blade, and the ripping noise it makes is so stark against the bassy industrial background noise of the Keep that it rakes against Prompto’s ears, making him wince.

            Soon Prompto’s groin is exposed in the chill air. He whimpers, tries to clench his thighs together, although the effort is in vain. Ardyn smirks, and turns away to retrieve something. The air feels greasy and full of miasma, of ill portent, and for a second Prompto almost forgets how to breathe. He wants to be sick.

            When Ardyn returns from some other dark recess of the room, he’s carrying a device in both hands. Weighty, with some rubber surface protruding on top, and a wire leading out of one end. Prompto’s breath catches in his throat. He recognises it almost immediately; it’s been a key feature of the sort of porn movies he likes to watch. A sybian. _Gods_ , the vibrations those things can put out, the sensations they’re capable of eliciting… His heart skips one beat too many with the thought.

            Of course, here, the meaning is clear. This is for him.

            _Shit._

            He never imagined his first time on one of these things would be at the hands of this monster.

            ‘See, I’m not all that bad now, am I?' Ardyn trails a hand lovingly over Prompto’s exposed body, and sets to work positioning the device between his legs, ensuring the rubber saddle is pressed against his groin perfectly. More straps on the sides secure the device to his thighs. There’s no getting out of this.

            ‘We’ve got a number of hours before your dear Noct will even think of showing up,’ Ardyn says, devilish eyes catching the sparse light. ‘And, my dearest boy, you’ve endured _so_ much already. I’m interested to see just how much more you can take.’

            He flicks the switch, and the machine starts up. Prompto feels his thighs contract almost instantly, the vibrations are so strong, so _delicious_. ‘No, no,’ he repeats, but soon he trips up over his own words of denial, falling into reluctant bliss. Ardyn smiles down at him, presses soft kisses along his neckline, lets his hands travel over his body. If Prompto had wanted this, it would almost have been comforting. But he doesn’t, and so he lets his eyes shutter closed so he won’t have to look at the man towering oh so kindly above him.

            _Gods_ , he’s so _wet_ already, and the machine is so relentless, so unforgiving as it vibrates hard against him, lapping at his sensitive skin, bringing his nerves so close to the edge. He doesn’t understand. Of all the things Ardyn could do to him, why this?

            He tries to ask. But a brief ‘Why?’ is all he’s able to say amid the pleasurable sensations coursing through his body.

            ‘I simply love watching you struggle,’ Ardyn says in response. ‘Ah … I could do this all day. But alas, I must make do with what time we have, you beautiful boy.’

            He plants another fierce, soft kiss on Prompto’s lips, and starts pumping his own cock as Prompto approaches his first orgasm. When Prompto screams into his mouth, he groans, low and resonant, and he continues to toy with himself as Prompto shivers and strains and bucks with the aftermath of his orgasm.

            The machine doesn’t stop. Prompto’s screams of pleasure turn to screams of terror and Ardyn’s hazy, dusky amber eyes bore into his and he realises _he’s not going to stop it._ The torturous sensations climb and climb, and he panics. Just how many times will Ardyn bring him to orgasm before Noctis arrives?


End file.
